The Train

Marilyn was looking out the window as the train began moving. She dropped back into the seat so hard that it hurt, so badly, in fact, that it momentarily made her forget about the panic attack she was having. “Owww,” she said to the little blond girl sitting next to her. The little girl responded, “Ouchy?” “Yes, darling, ouchy,” she replied. She couldn’t help but smile; it was the first in a long time. But they were finally on the train.  She was sure that the train was their only hope of escape. She considered taking the car, but that wouldn’t be fast enough. Besides, they knew her car—they had followed her from Seattle after all. She took a deep breath and could already feel herself beginning to relax.

After a few minutes, she pulled out some cookies from her bag. Do you want…she stopped. The child sat motionless, staring straight ahead. “Honey, look at me,” she said. The child started straight ahead. “Oh no, please God, not again!” Panic was creeping up her spine. “Honey,” she said again, pulling the child up into her lap. The child didn’t respond. “No, no, please…” she thought. This can’t be happening again. She began to sob.

“Ouchy?” she heard. She opened her eyes and looked at the child’s face. “Ouchy?” The child said again, touching a tear making its way down Marilyn’s cheek. Marilyn gasped. “Oh baby, you’re OK,” she said. “No ouchy,” she said managing a smile.  She stroked the child’s blond curls. The child settled herself into Marilyn’s lap. Marilyn held her tightly until the child fell asleep. But the incident rattled her. It was starting again—she could feel it. She didn’t know how or why—all she knew is that she wouldn’t let them take her child again. Her only hope now was to get as far away from them—this evil--as she could. She willed the train to go faster and hoped they weren’t too late.

It was dark now and the train was quiet. For a long time, Marilyn dozed but couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, she thought about what had been happening since they got to the shore. It just didn’t make any sense. Who were these people going after her child? Why? She shuttered as she thought back to that evening in town when they tore child away from her. “She doesn’t belong to you,” they had said. God, she had screamed so! But then--just as unexplainably--the child was back. And she seemed to be fine.

“Maybe it’s payback,” she thought. “Maybe she really doesn’t belong with me…NO, don’t think that way!” she screamed back to herself, “she does belong with you and not that monster!” Her head was pounding now. “Hold it together Mare,” she thought, “you have to hold it together.”

Weeks earlier, she and the child had been in Seattle. She hated most everything about it.  She grew up in Florida--the Sunshine City to be exact--where they gave out newspapers for free if the sun didn’t shine.  So, day after day of the wet, gray weather wore on her. 

But she loved her job. All she ever wanted was to be around children. 

“Why torture yourself. Mare?” her mother would say. “Since you can’t have any of your own,” was implied but not stated out loud. 

“I love kids, Ma,” Marilyn would say. 

“Suit yourself. I just think you’d be better off if you forgot about children all together.”

But she couldn’t do that. Children were pure innocence—well the little ones anyway. And they didn’t try to fool you or mess with your head. If she couldn’t have any of her own, she’d just have to enjoy other people’s. 

And there was one child she loved more than any of the others. So much so that she had quit her job at the daycare center to become a fulltime governess to the child. The child’s mother was a “modern” woman who had a big, fancy job and traveled frequently. “One of those bra burners,” Marilyn’s mother would have called her. She hired Marilyn as a live-in to care for the child while she worked (which seemed to be around the clock) and run the household while she was away. 

 Luckily, the child loved Marilyn back—she would scream “Mawy!” when she saw her and leap up into her arms. Such as sweet child she was, and so good. Too good for that ungrateful mother of hers always galivanting around the world and neglecting the child. She barely even called to see if the poor child was OK. Marilyn thought this was just shameful and couldn’t understand why any woman would choose to have a career when they had a child to raise. “So what if it’s the 1970s, if she were my little girl, I’d take better care of her,” she’d think. Before long, the child began to favor Marilyn over her own mother—at least that’s what Marilyn thought. 

One afternoon she had an idea. “Let’s pretend that I’m your Mommy, she said to the child. She pointed to herself—“Mommy” she said. “Mawy” the little girl responded. “Mommy,” Marilyn repeated. “Mawy,” the little girl said again. “OK, Mawy--close enough.” That was the first day that the child became hers—well at least she could pretend she was hers. When she pushed the stroller into the park that afternoon, she made a point to say, “My little girl” if anyone spoke to them. “Oh yes, my little girl gets her blond hair from her father,” she said to an older woman who admired the child’s golden curls. From then on, whenever they were out in public, Marilyn pretended to be the child’s mother. It made her happy and she so wished it were true.

But then the holidays rolled around. “We’re going to California for Christmas” the child’s mother told her one evening. 

Marilyn froze then said, “I’m happy to go with you—you’ll need me to go, right?” 

“It really isn’t necessary,” the child’s mother replied. “We’ll be fine.” 

Marilyn bit her lip—she was trying not to sound desperate. “But I really don’t mind…”

“No, it’s fine, you need to take more time for yourself.  Go have Christmas with your family.” 

“That CHILD is my family,” Marilyn screamed in her mind. This was true, since her mother died, she had no family. She managed to nod before hurrying out of the room.  She cried herself to sleep that night. “It isn’t fair,” she kept thinking, “that woman doesn’t deserve that beautiful child…” And she had such wonderful plans for Christmas with the child. It just wasn’t fair, and it made her very angry.

After a cold, lonely Christmas, Marilyn’s mood darkened further, while her fantasies of being the child’s mother intensified.  Her hatred for the child’s real mother grew as well. But it wasn’t just hatred, she began to see the woman for who she really was—an evil—yes that was it—an evil monster who would harm the child if given a chance. Then one morning after another sleepless night, it hit her. She needed to protect the child and that meant one thing: getting her away from this evil monster.

At first the thought petrified her, and she recoiled from it. “Mare, she thought, you’re talking about kidnaping.” “No,” a voice inside her head retorted, it isn’t kidnapping if you’re doing it to protect the child.” “But how”, she thought, “how could we get away with it?”   

It took months and a bit of luck for the plan to take shape. First, she needed to get her car back—it was parked in a public lot that she paid for out of the considerable sum of money her mother left her. It still had the Florida license plates but she wouldn’t go to Florida. No, that would be the first place they’d look for her. They’d go back East—yes, up to New Jersey where she spent summers as a young girl. She hid road atlases under her mattress, taking them out at night to study them and plan a route through back roads. She also bought some hair bleach that she tucked into the back of the closet until she needed it. She’d always wanted to be a blond so here was the perfect opportunity. And besides, she’d look more like the child’s mother as a blond. Win-win.

Once she had worked out how they would leave, the question was when. This needed a bit of finessing. One morning in early summer, she called the monster’s secretary to ask if she could get a list of the upcoming trips the monster was planning over the next few months. “I know how busy she is, and I didn’t want to bother her…but just in case I need to take some time off it would be good to know,” she had said in her sweetest, most innocent voice.

The secretary read the list: few days in LA later this month—no that wouldn’t do too short; a week in New York next month—better, but still too short. The woman continued to read…but none of the trips fit the bill. “That’s all that she has planned now…well, of course, except for the big overseas trip in September.” Marilyn froze. “Wow—that sounds exciting—where’s she going? How long?” She was trying not to sound too anxious.  But the details didn’t matter—the last time the monster was overseas, she barely called (the time difference she kept saying, but Marilyn knew it was because she couldn’t care less about the child). Yes, this was it—her opportunity to get the child away from the monster.

The next few months were excruciating for Marilyn. She had gone over the details of the escape plan (that’s how she thought about it) a thousand times: make sure all the support staff would be on vacation that week—check; take the car out for a drive and then to a service station to make sure it was fit for a cross country trip—check; pack for a few weeks—check.

In the final countdown to escape, the days seemed to drag on. And then came the moment. “Marilyn, the taxi is here,” the monster said. The child alerted to her mother’s voice. “Come dear,” the monster said with open arms, “say goodbye to Mama.” Marilyn cringed. She wanted to rip the child from the monster’s arms. “I’ll be home before you know it and I’ll bring you something special,” the monster was saying to the child. “Give Mama a big kiss goodbye.” “You better enjoy it because it will be your last,” Marilyn thought. 

“Remember Marilyn, you won’t hear from me until Tuesday afternoon because of…” “The time difference,” Marilyn thought just as the monster said it. 

“Sure,” Marilyn said. “We should be here but don’t worry if we’re not…you know, at the park or something.”  She was struggling to sound nonchalant. “Of course, we won’t be out long…you know, just to get some of this fresh autumn air.” “Shut up now Marilyn,” she said to herself.  

“Yes, that’s fine,” said the monster, “I’ll track you down. And if there’s an emergency call, the switchboard and they’ll find me,” the monster said. 

“Yes, of course,” Marilyn said with a smile, “do have a safe trip.” “And good riddance,” she thought.

She watched as the monster’s taxi pulled away. Then it was time to execute their carefully planned escape. Marilyn gathered their bags—already packed—and filled a Styrofoam cooler with ice, drinks, sandwiches, bags of chips, crackers, cookies, and candy. When the child went down for a nap, Marilyn pulled out the bleach. "Time to become a blond,” she thought.

When it was time, she scooped the child up and said, “Time to go, darling.” She knew that these first hours on the road were the most important. She needed to get as far away from this rainy hell as fast as she could. But she dared not speed—she couldn’t risk getting pulled over. When she finally backed the car out of the driveway, she could barely breath. “God be with us,” she thought as they started the journey East.

Marilyn slowly calmed down by repeating “God is on our side,” to herself. This made her feel better—good almost. Heroic. She was saving this precious child after all. And the child seemed to be taking it all in stride, watching out the window in the front seat and sleeping on the makeshift bed Marilyn fashioned for her in the back. They sang songs to pass the time. She was such a good child—an easy child.

By the next evening, she couldn’t keep her eyes open despite all the coffee she’d been drinking. She knew they needed to stop. It was almost dark when they pulled into the small motel. She gently lifted the sleeping child and carried her into the small office. “God, she thought, cigarette smoke. Filthy habit.” As if on cue an older woman with stringy gray hair appeared from the back, cigarette dangling from her mouth.

“One night?” the woman said.

 “Yes,” Marilyn said.

“Just the two of you or you got a man out there?”

“No just my daughter and me.” She loved how that sounded. The child roused and started to cry.

“Mama…wan Mama,” she cried.

“Mama’s here darling,” Marilyn said and stroked the child’s hair. “There, there you must have had a bad dream.”

Marilyn quickly paid the old woman—and turned for the door. She wanted to get out of there before the old woman figured out that she wasn’t Mama.

“Hey lady,” the woman called over the child’s sobs.

Marilyn reeled, “What?” she replied sharply.

“You forgot your key.”

“Oh yes of…of course, thank you. Good night.” She was trying to be pleasant now.

“Yeah, you too…hope that kid shuts up,” she added under her breath. Marilyn ignored her and hurried out of the office.

The room was small and drab, but it would do—she didn’t intend on being there very long.  She sat down on the bed and rocked the child. “Wan Mama,” the child said again. Marilyn was getting annoyed now. “I’m here baby.” she said. “Are you hungry? How about a Coke--would you like that?”

“Coke,” the child replied excitedly.

“Come on then, let’s go to the car and get some and we’ll stop for ice too.” Marilyn grabbed the ice bucket, took the child’s hand, and headed for the car.

As she was closing the car door, she saw a man standing a few cars away. “Huh,” she thought, wasn’t that man at the diner earlier—how strange.”  He was a tall man, middle aged, dressed in a suit, and wearing a fedora hat. He looked over dressed and somehow out of place—that’s why she had noticed him before. Now he was regarding them…no, staring at them…no, not at them, at the child—he was staring at the child.  And the child was staring back.

Marilyn grabbed the little girl and jerked her back, harder than she intended. The little girl almost lost her balance, but Marilyn caught her. “Come on honey, let’s go.”

Her heart was beating fast now. “How dare he stare at my little girl! What was he, some sort of pervert?” She looked back. He was gone. “What the…?” She looked around but didn’t see him. “He must have gotten into a car.” she thought as she scooped up the child and headed back to the room. They would have to do without ice.

Once in the room, Marilyn tried to shake off the feeling of dread that had come over her. That man was so creepy, she thought. But she needed to keep her focus on the end goal. Just get to the Jersey shore—don’t let anything distract you. 

“Here’s your Coke, honey.” The child didn’t respond. “Honey, here’s your…” she stopped. The child was staring straight ahead. “Honey’” Marilyn said again, touching the child’s arm. But the child continued to stare straight ahead. Marilyn kneeled in front of the child. Now she realized the child wasn’t really staring at anything—it was as if she had just gone blank.  She shook the child gently. “Baby, sweetheart, snap out of it.” She shook harder, but the child’s vacant eyes showed nothing. 

“Honey, can you hear me?” Marilyn asked. The child nodded but the blank expression remained. “What’s the matter with you?” She was losing control. “If you’re playing a game with me, stop it this instant!” The child sat motionless looking at nothing. Given her current level of stress and lack of sleep, Marilyn was a second away from snapping. But then the child suddenly came back. 

“Coke!” she squealed. “Me Coke!” Marilyn gushed “Oh thank you God!” She cried and hugged the child. “You had me so worried.” The tears came then in a torrent. She clung to the child and cried. After a while, she got herself under control. “We’re going to be fine,” she said as she tucked the child into bed.   But later that night the voices started. Those horrible, evil, voices…

She was on the train--dreaming now. Running with the child. “She’s not yours to keep,” they were saying. “We’ll take the Child now, Marilyn.” They were all around her now. “No, you can’t have her!” Marilyn was screaming.

She woke up suddenly gasping for air, bathed in sweat. It took a second to get her bearings. The train, she thought, “yes, we’re on the train, getting away.” Another second and she realized that the only thing in her lap was a blanket. She jerked her head to the left and then to the right—she was alone. A gripping fear overcame her. Then she heard it. “We have the Child again, Marilyn.  We’ll take good care of her for you.”